


Lace

by wizardinblack



Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, men in panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8790259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardinblack/pseuds/wizardinblack
Summary: "...It’s just kind of become a safety blanket. Like a good luck charm. Like carrying around a rabbit's foot or wearing a lucky pair of underwear...well, it’s exactly that, except in this case the underwear is lace with frilly little bows and intended to sit on dainty hips that are much more delicate and slender than his own."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is so fucking messy holy shit sorry. I started writing this forever ago and forgot about til someone made a request over at the kinkmeme for Roman in panties...so I decided to brush the dust off this and finish it. It's late and not properly edited so I apologize for any weirdness. Also if you've seen this posted twice it's cause I posted it like a day ago but had to delete and repost. sorry about that.

Roman’s not really sure what to call it. It’s just a thing that happened once and then never really stopped happening, and that’s really all it is. Just a thing. He hates thinking about it too much, because the way he sees it there’s no reason to try and complicate it. But, If he had to describe it he’d say it was a comfort kind of thing. He’s not really sure why, and he doesn’t really understand it at all himself either because, despite what most people might assume, it’s not really a sexual thing, even though it started that way.

And he doesn’t really know how that happened either. He isn’t sure when it happened, when he became drawn to the fabric and the delicacy of it for whatever reason, when he bought his first pair, all nerves and shaky hands, and then couldn’t even will himself to put them on. Just settled for wrapping them around his hand and then fisting his dick, just the feel of the fabric on his skin enough to drive him crazy, and effectively ruining them just an hour after purchasing them.

Then to when he finally got the gall to put them on, and then a week later got the confidence to actually look at himself wearing them, touching himself in the mirror while wearing the tiny lacey thing, his dick looking comical shoved into it but still setting him on fire with desire. To when he started wearing them regularly, owned multiple pairs, like it was normal….and it is now.

Now, where it’s just kind of become a safety blanket. Like a good luck charm. Like carrying around a rabbit's foot or wearing a lucky pair of underwear...well, it’s exactly that, except in this case the underwear is lace with frilly little bows and intended to sit on dainty hips that are much more delicate and slender than his own.

It just feels nice wearing women’s panties. He just feels better in them. Like he is truly himself while he’s wearing them. It gives him confidence, confidence that he only pretends to have sometimes, which is why he starts wearing them out. Not doing anything special or anything, just to go out. He’ll put them on under his regular clothes and take a trip to the supermarket and no one is none the wiser. It feels good just to have a secret like this. For someone like him who is in the public eye all the time to have this secret that no one else in the world could ever possibly find out about.

He likes the way the lace feels under his clothes. The way his jeans rub against it as he walks and causes a pleasant friction on his package that has been strategically tucked away in the tiny garment.

When he’s home alone he’ll walk around in just them and nothing else, except sometimes some thigh high stockings when he’s feeling extra indulgent. Those he had to search hard for, and he ripped and teared quite a few before finding ones that would actually stretch around his massive muscular thighs and make it all the way up his long legs.

That’s it though. He doesn’t do anything else “feminine.” He waxes his body because he wrestles and it’s the thing to do, no other reason (and if he’s being honest he actually likes the way the stockings feel when his hair has grown out a bit, and the stubble catches on the fabric and causes his skin to tingle.) He doesn’t wear makeup or bras or corsets or anything like that, although he sees nothing wrong with it. He just likes the way the material feels on his junk and his legs. He doesn’t even view it as a feminine thing and he doesn’t feel girly while doing it and he doesn’t feel like it emasculates him either. It’s just clothing, that’s all, and it makes him happy. Doesn’t make him less of a man or anything. It just is what it is, doesn’t have to be complicated.

But still, even though he knows that and he feels comfortable with himself he still would be mortified if anyone ever found out...Not everyone thinks like he does, especially in the business he’s in, and he worries he would lose everything if anyone ever found out.

So he fucks up...he fucks up by getting too bold, by needing it too much, by finding too much stability and comfort in it to the point that he needs it. Needs it as a safety blanket when he goes out there for a match that he is particularly worried about. Worried about the spots, the reaction...everything. He’s too nervous. So he slips on his favorite pair of panties. It’s a cheeky little pair made entirely of lace. He likes the way his dick is visible through the delicate design, and likes even more how the back can barely cover his ass. He knows he’s a little thick back there, and he used to be self conscious about it, but the way these panties hug the curves of his cheeks, the lace only covering the top half of his backside and leaving the rest all hanging out, makes him actually swell with pride. Never before has Roman been in love with his extra weight, but this, this makes it worth it. It makes his butt look amazing and he feels the most beautiful and powerful in them. Putting his ring gear on over them is like a whole other experience, one that he feels giddy and terrified of at the same time. He’s shaky with excitement.

He tucks his tank top into his pants and clicks together the multiple belts on his vest and checks himself in the mirror five times to make sure nothing is showing. There’s really no reason it would, but he can’t help but check anyway.

And when he goes out there he is on fire. He isn’t even thinking about it, not even thinking about anything really, he just does and he does well. The match goes great and even with the occasional boos, because they won't ever leave him no matter what, it doesn’t matter because he feels  _ great _ , he feels  _ strong _ , he feels  _ unstoppable, _ and he feels  _ beautiful. _

And really it’s when he’s in the locker room afterwards that he fucks up. He throws off his vest and pulls off the sweaty tank top and focuses on pulling his damp hair into a bun when someone walks in. He doesn’t think anything of it because it’s not uncommon to have people coming in and out, and honestly he’s feeling such a high that he doesn’t even care, his mind isn’t even thinking straight. All he can think is  _ yes, yes, yes, _ the lace still wrapped around his most intimate parts, the sweat from the match just adding to the friction, the adrenaline from his little secret being worn in front of thousands of people…

“Yo, Rome, Jimmy n’ Jey said they’d be head-” It’s Dean who has busted into his room, and Roman turns to face him, huge wide grin on his lips eager to ride this feeling for the rest of the night with his best friend and cousins, not noticing the sudden halt Dean’s voice comes to.

Once facing him, Dean doesn’t meet his eyes. In fact, Dean doesn’t look up at all, seemingly distracted.

Roman’s face falls. Dean’s eyes are locked in at his waist, and Roman is terrified to confirm what he already knows.

He looks down at himself, and sure enough, peeking out of the waistband of his pants, is a thin strip of lace.

Roman tugs up his pants as fast as possible, and the movement seems to snap Dean out of his trance.

“Roman-” Dean starts, finally looking him in the face, but this time Roman can’t meet his eye.

His fingers are still in his belt loops, keeping his pants in place even though it’s totally unnecessary. He clears his throat. “Please go.”

It’s all he can say. He doesn’t want to know what Dean will think. He doesn’t want to talk to him about it. He doesn’t want to explain himself. And he most definitely doesn’t want to see Dean be disgusted with him.

“Rome-” Dean tries again.

“Go.” Roman doesn’t even hesitate. His voice deep and stern.

Dean doesn’t try to speak again, and Roman closes his eyes and takes a heaving breath as he listens to the door open.

“Dean,” Roman calls out to him before he go, and Dean turns in an instant, expectant, waiting. “Tell anyone and I’ll fucking spear you in half.”

He doesn’t like threatening his best friend...but what other option does he have. The door shuts with Dean on the other side, and Roman stands motionless in a mess of worry, anxiety, and regret.

* * *

It’s been two weeks, and they both ignored what had happened back in locker room. Dean seemed to be cool with respecting Roman and not mentioning it again, which was totally fine with Roman. They went back to acting normal around each other, pretending like nothing had changed. But it had changed.

In the two weeks Roman noticed Dean looking at him more, staring at him whenever he thought he wasn’t paying attention, and at first it made Roman mad, thinking Dean was doing it out of disgust or something equally terrible. But after catching him for about the 10th or 100th time Roman realized it wasn’t out malice, but out of...interest? Curiosity? He wasn’t sure exactly but the way Dean had been eyeing his ass definitely didn’t seem bad.

Roman knew there was always some kind of buzzing between them….something he pushed down deep, afraid of what it meant and worried it could ruin their friendship and/or career, but it was always there. And sometimes he felt like Dean could feel it too. Sometimes when they celebrated a win in the ring and touches lingered a little too long, shared hugs so crushing Roman felt like he couldn’t breathe, and butted their foreheads together in a more intimate action than any kiss Roman’s ever shared with anyone.

But it was never something to be acknowledged. It just never felt appropriate to talk about...but now...now it’s unavoidable. It’s thick and heavy in the room around them and the space between them is no longer just buzzing but it’s electrifying. It’s shocking and vibrant and it hurts. It’s becoming too much to ignore both mentally and physically.

They go out drinking one night, them and a whole bunch of other people, but really it’s only them that matters. Dean won’t stop staring at Roman and Roman keeps staring back. They stand close together and talk even closer. Dean keeps touching his arm, his waist, his lower back...Roman feels like he is in college all over again flirting at the only gay bar in town, high on alcohol and new beginnings.

This feeling that Roman has had for Dean, the one he knew existed but never knew what it meant, he wants to act on it now. He can tell Dean does too. He still doesn’t know what that means but he wants to find out anyway.

They leave the bar early, not bothering to say goodbye or tell anyone else what they’re up to.

When they end up stumbling into Roman’s hotel room, a little tipsy but not nearly as drunk as they were an hour ago, the atmosphere shifts.

Suddenly Roman is hyper aware of what is happening. He and Dean had been flirting all night. He invited him back up to his hotel room. What the fuck does this even mean? And after Dean had discovered…?

Like a ton of fucking bricks, Roman is hit with a huge wave of self-consciousness, unsure of what Dean’s actual endgame is.

“Dean-”

“Listen,” Dean cuts him off, holding a hand up, sensing Roman’s sudden discomfort. “You don’t gotta explain nothin to me, man.”

Roman doesn’t say anything back. Should feel grateful that Dean doesn’t want to know and that he will probably respect Roman enough to just leave it be...but Dean hasn’t met his gaze, and his eyes are locked onto the waistband of his pants like he can see through it, and it makes him uneasy.

Self-consciously Roman folds his hands over his crotch. He feels naked all the sudden, and hot, like his face is burning.

The movement must knock Dean out of whatever thoughts he’s thinking because he looks away, embarrassed. The hand he had up in a sign of peace he moves to the back of his neck and scratches there awkwardly. Roman can see his face getting pink too.

“Thank you.” Roman finally decides to say in response, because he is grateful Dean won’t make him explain, even if it feels...weird, now. After the past 2 weeks and after all the lust filled looks and flirting tonight, Roman kind of wants an explanation from Dean, if he’s being honest with himself, and he thinks he’s owed one.

Dean clears his throat and licks his lips before nodding, a curt jerky motion. “Can I ask you somethin though?” He says it quiet, mumbles a bit.

“Sure.” Roman answers, trying to sound more confident than he is, like this isn’t the most horrifying conversation he’s even been made to have.

And finally, Dean looks at him then, wide eyed like he’s seeing him for the first time. “Can I see?”

“I-” Roman sputters for a moment, mouth hanging open as he stops mid thought, because he wasn’t expecting that and he doesn’t even know how to respond.

“Are you wearing them now?” Dean asks after a moment, expecting, an eager look in his eyes.

Roman shakes his head, more in the motion of disbelief than in an answer of yes or no.

“What?” A mix of anger and confusion. “Dean, what the fuck?”

“What?” Dean says back, actually sounding shocked.

Roman gestures with his hands, exasperated. “Is this what this is about? You come here to laugh at me? Is that all the last few days have been? You trying to get in my pants so you can mock me?”

He’s so mad, but it makes sense. All the sudden Dean’s got this interest in him...only after finding out this thing about Roman. He must be playing with him.

“What? No.” Dean steps forward, like he’s about to reach out for Roman but he stops sort. “No, man. It’s not like that at all.”

“So what then? Why all the staring and the flirting all the sudden? What changed, huh?” Roman can’t stop the bite in his voice. This is his worst nightmare after all. His best friend thinks he’s a fucked up weirdo and he probably just wanted to rub it in his face, ridicule him for being the gay guy with the freaky fetish, get him in bed to prove it and laugh.

“Nothing changed. Roman…” Dean’s quiet, his voice low and soft, unlike Roman has ever heard before. It puts an odd feeling in Roman’s gut, but it calms him all the same.

Dean takes those last steps forward, finally closing in in Roman’s personal space. He’s right in front of him now, faces inches apart, Roman can practically feel when Dean licks his own lips, lets out a dry laugh.

“You remember Cesaro’s Christmas party?” He asks after a moment. “Like, fucking forever ago, dude?”

He’s so close. When those words finally get Roman to look him in the eyes he’s hit with a wave of blue, crystal clear and searing into him, so fucking close like he could fall in and drown.

“Remember,” Dean keeps talking when Roman doesn’t. “Remember Cesaro had that huge party at his place. Said he wanted to make it a tradition but everyone got so fucked up and wrecked his shit that he swore never to invite anyone over ever again?”

“Yeah, and then he just ended up inviting us back over for New Years anyway.” Roman answers, recalling it fondly. It was right after they had been put into the Shield together, and they all still didn’t know each other that well.

“Right!” Dean lets out a relieved laugh before sobering quickly, clearing his throat and letting his voice drop low again. “Remember how we got locked in his garage?”

Roman did remember. He and Dean were trying to get more beers from the backup cooler Cesaro had hiding out in his garage. Somehow the door locked behind them and they ended up stuck for a whole half hour til someone else came looking for more alcohol.

“Remember how we made out?” And Roman was waiting for that. He closes his eyes, drops his head as Dean says it. “Remember how we almost got busted, fucking Tyler Breeze almost walking in on my tongue down your throat.”

It’s heated how he says the last part, and Roman struggles to swallow, struggles to get some moisture in his suddenly dry mouth before he can speak.

“I didn’t think you remembered.” He finally says. They never talked about it. If Roman didn’t remember it so clearly and vividly he probably would have thought he imagined it or just dreamed it. Dean never let on that he remembered. Roman always assumed he was just so drunk he blacked out and didn’t even know it happened. He never mentioned it because it seemed right to let Dean go on not knowing it happened. Roman hadn’t even known Dean’s sexuality. He didn’t want their partnership at work being tarnished by some drunk hookup at a party before they even really started working together.

Roman never forgot about it though. Chalked up his weird feelings for Dean as just residue from that night. Was able to push them down deep. It definitely made their relationship strained at first. They butted heads a lot in the beginning of the Shield, but with time it got easier. Roman wasn’t sure what was going through Dean’s head all that time, even though he was sure he could sense some kind of energy off of him, that wild buzzing that always zapped between them, he still was too chicken to reach out and say anything about it.

“How could I forget, fuck.” Dean practically groans, and Roman rolls his eyes, laughs at him because he always was such a sweet talker.

“I didn’t think you remembered.” Dean finishes then, mirroring his statement. “Either that or you realized you made a huge mistake hooking up with a lowlife like me.”

“Dean-” Roman starts.

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” Dean cuts him off. “The point is nothin’ changed. I just...Fuck, after seeing...that.” He nods his head forward, gesturing to Roman’s waist line. “I just can’t fucking get you outta my head. I can’t stop thinking about it. About them and you and, fuck, what you’d look like in them.”

He places tentative hands on Roman’s hips, slow like he’s waiting to see if Roman will knock them away. He doesn’t and they land soft and gentle, fingers curling into his sides like they are dying to scratch an itch that’s been aching for years.

“You know I’m not good at this, and I prob’ly should have told you sooner.” He keeps talking, starts rambling a bit in his nervousness. “But man it’s like I shut it off for so long, you know? And this just flipped the switch right back on and I can’t turn it off now.”

Roman’s never seen Dean quite like this and he can’t help from laughing. He slides a hand down his face in disbelief, still unable to form proper thoughts.

“So, you don’t think it’s weird?”

Dean shakes his head.

“So, all these years, we coulda been banging, huh?”

Dean lets out a bark of a laugh. “Well, come on then baby, we gotta lot of lost time to make up for.”

He kisses him then, and it’s like all that electricity that’s been storing up between them finally shoots off, lights up between them and sends shocks into their systems. It’s just as Roman remembers, rough and eager, messy without a care for finesse but just perfect all the same. Dean throws his whole self into it, and Roman gives him the same back. Hands are everywhere, touching and grabbing, mapping out and feeling. Roman’s got two fists in Dean’s hair, holding his head as he dives in deep with his tongue. And Dean’s got one hand up his shirt and two fingers of the other in the belt loop of his pants.

Dean steps backwards, pulls Roman with him, and falls back onto the bed. He scoots up a bit, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at Roman with shinning, eager eyes.

“Take off your clothes.”

Roman stands dumbly in front of him. “What?”

“Come on.” Dean throws him a devilish smirk. “Lemme see.”

Roman sighs in a mock defeated fashion, feeling stupid and giddy at the same time. No one has ever seen him in his panties before, and he’s nervous to take off his clothing to reveal them, but he’s so excited at the same time, can feel his heart beating in his ears.

Dean kicks his foot up, gently nudges Roman in the thigh when he takes to long to start stripping.

“Alright man, chill. Gimme a second.” Roman turns then, his back facing Dean because he is sure there is no way in hell he’d be able to strip down with Dean staring at him the way he is.

He takes his shirt off first, easy and quick. He isn’t trying to do anything cute or sexy, not that that’s even his style to begin with, and just gets rid of his clothing as quick as possible. He unbuttons his pants with shaky hands and slides them down his legs and kicks them away in a quick jerky motion.

Dean is quiet behind him and Roman is afraid to turn around. He’s wearing a lacy pair similar to the one in the locker room, except this one is a deep burgundy color. In a last effort to stall for one more final second, he pauses and decides to take his hair out of its bun. He takes his time with this, carefully pulling out the tie so it doesn’t snag, and then shakes his hair out, letting it fall over his shoulders and back.

He hears a tiny gasp and only then does he look behind him, pulling his hair over his shoulder as he turns his head and peeks over the other one.

Dean’s mouth is hanging wide open, jaw practically hitting his chest that’s how much he’s in awe, and his eyes are wide, raking up and down Roman’s body hungrily. He’s got one hand at the crotch of his pants, not doing anything but just sitting on top, covering his already growing hard on.

“Jesus christ, Rome…”

Roman drops his head, feeling heat rise to his face. He stays there and poses a bit, feeling slightly more confident, knowing his ass looks great in lace, giving Dean a nice little show.

By the time he actually turns around Dean’s got a good grip on his dick, rubbing roughly over his jeans, and it makes Roman feel a little better about the hard on he’s sporting even though he hasn’t even touched himself yet.

And Roman’s dick is no match for the tiny garment. It’s sticking up out the top, head poking out all dark and hard, shinning with precome. Roman doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard over nothing in his life, but just the idea of someone, especially Dean, seeing him like this is enough to make him feel like he’s going to burst at any moment.

“Fuck, Roman, come ‘ere.” Dean reaches out for him and Roman complies, straddling him on the bed and letting his hair fall down in a curtain over them as Dean lays down completely.

Roman takes a moment to just hover over him, just to look down at his flushed face and take a moment to realize that this is real and really happening. Dean places his hands on his waist, traces the lace with feather light touches around the sides til they meet in the back and he grabs two handfuls of his ass.

“You’re fuckin amazing, holy shit.” Dean kneads his flesh a bit, guiding him as he lifts his hips and grinds against him. “Can’t believe you kept this all to yourself. Fuckin selfish of you, you know? Fuckin criminal.”

Roman laughs, grinds his hips with Dean’s, loves the feel of his denim against Roman’s lace.

“Don’t blame me, man. You’re the one who waited this long to tell me you actually remembered what happened at that party. That’s on your own dumb self.”

“Fuck, yeah, you’re right.” Dean doesn’t seem too fazed, throws his head back with closed eyes and lip tugged tight between his teeth. “Call me dumb some more, just don’t fucking stop.”

“You’re so dumb.” Roman laughs again, drops down low for a kiss, but doesn’t stop his rhythm.

Dean moves one hand to his hair, grabs a fistful and pulls, makes Roman whine with it, and hooks a leg over one of his, uses the leverage to shift their bodies so he’s on top.

Roman lets him do it, lays down with his hair fanned out on the bed and Dean still ravishing his mouth. He pauses after a moment, sits up on top of him so he can finally remove his shirt. Once it's gone he sits back on his haunches, gives Roman a good once over making Roman blush so hard his face probably matches the color of his panties.

Dean lets out a little laugh of his own, more breathy than anything else, peeks his tongue out his mouth in concentration and trails a finger down Roman’s stomach to the head of his cock sticking out the waistband of the lacey garment.

“Look at this,” He says, and traces a light finger over the head in a slow circle, watches as his cock jerks in its delicate confines. “So fucking pretty.”

Roman can’t help but let out a tiny groan. It’s too much. He feels hot all over, and overwhelmed with the affection. He still feels more exposed than ever in his life, and it’s a little too much for him to handle, so he can’t help but throw an arm over his face in an attempt to hide.

He feels Dean move on top of him, listens to the sound of him unzipping his pants, and after a moment his arm is being gently pulled away as he leans over him. Dean kisses him first, provides a nice distraction as he shifts his body so he’s laying flush against Roman, and then goes back to thrusting against him. Roman can feel now that Dean’s removed himself from his jeans, and it’s his bare cock rubbing against his own lace covered one.

“Oh, god.” Roman gasps, because he knew he liked the feeling of lace against his dick but the feeling of another man against him combined with it is mindblowing. He latches his arms around Dean’s neck, kicks a leg up to wrap around his hip, and focus on moving with him. Their faces are so close, no longer kissing but just breathing with each other, heavy pants as they rock in time together.

“Fuck, yeah, fuckin perfect.” Dean grinds out, lets his head fall into the crook of Roman’s neck and shoulder, bites down on his fesh there as his movements get a little frantic.

Roman grips him harder, tries to pull him in as close as possible as he listens to Dean’s moans grow louder despite being muffled by his own skin. His hips meet his in an uncoordinated spastic rush and soon Dean stills over him, a long drawn out gasp leaving his lips as Roman feels his cock jerk against his own as he comes.

“Holy shit, Roman.” Dean’s breath is hot on his neck as they both calm down. “I don’t think I’ve ever come so fast in my life. And I don’t even care if that’s embarrassing, that was so fucking hot.”

Roman chuckles tiredly, drags a hand through sweaty hair as Dean sits up.

He’s still hard, and Dean gives him a quick peck on the lips before moving lower.

“Think I ruined your panties, though.” He says with a sly smile, hovering right over his cock. He glides a finger through the mess that’s all over the nice lacey material, teasing Roman as he does.

“I-It’s okay.” Roman stutters, his hips fluttering upwards at Dean’s touch.

“No, it’s not. At least let me try and clean it up.” And Roman doesn’t even have a chance to respond, the only noise coming out of his mouth a shocked “ah-!” as Dean dips down and rakes his tongue over his cock, still over the material of his panties.

He licks up all his come, soaking the panties with his spit, and once it’s all gone just to be sure he keeps licking up and down his length, wraps his lips up its sides and sucks the lace into his mouth, lets it drop back down with a wet slap and then blows hot on it before going back to long strokes of his tongue.

Roman squirms beneath him, can’t help moving and thrusting up to meet his mouth. His hands go back and forth between pulling at Dean’s hair to pulling at his own, totally and completely unable to control himself, feeling like he has to do something or else he’s going to burst. He’s so hot, so hot all over like his skin is burning up and he’s sure Dean’s has to feel it. He’s sure he can feel the searing heat off his tongue, can tell he’s driving Roman insane with every lick, suck, and bite.

The lace is sopping wet on his skin now, and the friction from it is amazing. The rough glide of it as it moves every time Dean drags his tongue over him makes his toes curl and his legs shake. Dean hasn’t even put him fully in his mouth yet, hasn’t even paid any attention to the head of his cock that’s still peeking out his waistband, and it isn’t until he finally does, finally wraps his lips around him and curls his tongue with a strong steady suck, that Roman comes.

He feels like he comes forever, like just years of build up is pouring out of him, and he guess it kind of is, after all.

Dean has no problem swallowing it all, and pulls off with one last gentle lick at his slit that has Roman’s twitching with overstimulation.

Afterwards, they lay in bed side by side, both panting heavily.

“Still think they’re ruined. Sorry big guy, I tried.” Dean breaks the silence, still breathing heavy.

“It was a good effort.” Roman answers back, easy, a grin on his face as he lets his eyes drift close. He knows he should get these sticky panties off of him, and that he’ll regret leaving them on in the morning, but sleep sounds too good right about now.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” Is the last thing Dean says before they both drift off, sweaty arms and legs still intertwined.

* * *

“I think it’s somewhere on this street...”

A month later and Roman finds himself in LA, being dragged somewhere by Dean downtown in a weird part of the city he’s never been to.

After their first night together Roman was surprised that their relationship hadn’t changed much at all. He was worried things would be different or weird, or Dean would wake up and realize he couldn’t keep up with Roman’s odd hobby and leave him for good. He should have known better he guesses now.

“Here!” Dean stops in front of a tiny hole in the wall shop. The door is black and there is no sign, but there is a window, and inside Roman can see mannequins...mannequins with broad shoulders and bulges between their legs...all wearing lingerie.

“Dean, what is this?” Roman asks, a little nervous.

Dean sends him a goofy smirk, looking real proud of himself. “I’ve walked by this place a few times in the past. Be lyin if I said I wasn’t curious ‘bout it.”

Without much else, Dean opens the door and holds it for Roman, stupid grin still on his face, and Roman hesitantly walks inside.

Inside is a lingerie shop, but not the ones Roman has been going into in the past, this one looks like it’s actually made for him, if the mannequins around him are anything to go by.

“I didn’t know…” Roman starts, staring at everything around him in awe. He knew that there were people like him, people who wore things that society didn’t deem fit for their gender, but he had no idea there were actual stores dedicated to bridging that gap.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles from behind him. “Maybe now we can find something that your dick actually fits in.”

“How y’all doing!” Roman and Dean both jump at the sound of the clerk greeting them. It’s a short, stocky man standing behind the counter, and he smiles brightly at them. “Need any help finding anything?”

Roman is about to say “No thank you” when Dean cuts him off.

“Yeah, what size about you think this guy would be?” He shouts back, matching the man’s cheery tone, and throws an arm over Roman’s shoulder.

“Dean-”

“Well, I’m sure we could find something.” The man says, not fazed at all by Roman’s uneasiness. He comes around the counter and takes a good look at him. “What’re we shopping for?”

Dean tells him that they’re looking for undergarments, tells him what Roman likes and what he likes as well. Also tells him price is not an issue.

The man brings them over to a table displaying a bunch of different underwear. Panties with larger fronts to accommodate a penis and even boxers made entirely out of lace.

“Those’ll probably be nice for work, right, Rome?” Dean holds up a pair of the boxers. “What do you think? Large? Extra Large?”

“I-” Roman doesn’t know what to say, can’t even find his voice. He can’t believe how casual this is, like it’s nothing. He feels like he could cry.

“He looks like an extra large to me.” The man answers for him. Dean nods in agreement and picks up a couple pairs off the table, then goes over to the more delicate and sexy panties.

“Come on, Rome, pick out what you want.” He says, voice a little softer now, noticing Roman is acting strange.

“There’s no judgement here.” The sales clerk interjects, and Roman jerks his head in his direction, surprised. “You’re not alone. There’s nothing wrong with wearing clothes that make you happy. No need to feel any shame here.”

Roman stares at him for a moment, takes in his words and his kind face. He could just be trying to get a sale, but he seems genuine. He nods and walks slowly to where Dean is standing, picks up a lacey pair of panties with a caged strappy back in a cool steel blue color.

“There you go.” The man says, cheer back in his voice. “That’s a good color for you.”

“Yeah, Rome.” Dean adds and places a soothing hand on his back, encouraging. “Anything else you wanted to look at?”

“Um-” Roman hesitate for a moment, stares down at the table in front of him before turning to the clerk. “Yeah, uh, s-stockings. I-I have trouble finding ones that are long enough.”

The clerk smiles and leads him over to a different display and after that it’s like the seal has been broken and Roman finally feels comfortable enough to shop. They spend a whole hour and half in the store and end up at the counter with a whole pile of new stuff for Roman to wear, and some for Dean too.

His heart drops when the clerk says their total though. It’s way over how much anyone should be spending on underwear.

“Dean-” Roman tries to tell him nevermind, but the credit card is already out and being handed to clerk.

“Shut up, told you I owe you, ‘member?”

And while it’s true since their first hookup Dean had ruined quite a few more pairs of Roman’s Roman still felt like it was too much.

“You’re lucky.” The clerk says before Roman can protest anymore. “You got an amazing boyfriend. Plenty of guys would be jealous.”

“Nah,” Dean mumbles, taking his card back from the clerk and shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m the lucky one.”

Which is so corny and Roman would be so tempted to make fun of him if he wasn’t in a state of shock.

Back at Dean’s place, and after an intense fuck session that involved Dean fucking Roman’s thighs while he wore a pair of his new stockings, they lay in bed with Dean curled up against Roman’s side, head resting on his chest.

“So, uh,” Roman has to ask. He can’t let it go. He just has to know. “Earlier, uh, when the store clerk said we were boyfriends…”

“Yeah?” Dean asks around a yawn.

“You didn’t correct him.”

Silence. Dean sits up, stares at Roman with an odd look. “Why would I?”

Roman struggles to meet his gaze, can feel his face burning. “Are we?”

Dean busts out laughing. “Well, yeah? I thought that much was obvious?”

“No! It wasn’t!” Roman yells defensively, but he can’t stop the huge grin on his face. “I didn’t know!”

“Of course you’re my boyfriend.” Dean leans in close, rests his forehead against Roman’s. “Unless you don’t wanna be.”

“I do.” Roman answers back.

“Then it’s settled.” Dean kisses his temple before snuggling back down against his side. “Now shut up and let me sleep, boyfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Roman laughs. “I know my boy needs his beauty sleep.”

“Damn straight.”

Dean falls asleep in an instant, but Roman lays awake for at least an hour, smiling dumbly and staring down at his best friend, his  _ boyfriend. _


End file.
